


Serendipity

by Vincent_PancakeKing



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vincent_PancakeKing/pseuds/Vincent_PancakeKing
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	1. Chapter 1

#  _I felt like I was being baked in an oven._

##  _My body was submerged in boiling water that also somehow managed to be freezing cold… The world went dark…_

The bitter smell of a hospital room woke me up, aside from the rhythmic beating of heart monitors and the sound of an oxygen tank delivering safe air for me to breathe in. I looked around. Everything was stiff- my arms were sticky from sweat. At the same time, I felt like I was submerged in snow. My stomach cramped. And I heard someone call my name.

“Angel!” It was my mother. I sat up, clenching the hem of my hospital gown. I met my mother’s eyes. I had her eyes-- sharp and dark, like pools of black ink on a white sheet of paper. But instead of a white sheet of paper, it was a light pink. She had been crying. Her eyes were puffy from tears. I could tell. 

I wanted to ask dozens of questions. What was wrong with me? Why was I here? Why did I feel so flushed but also freezing cold? I touched my arm. It was burning-- like I was touching a hot mug.

“Mom,” I croaked. My mother sat down and hugged me tight. I hugged her back, shaking. My strength was quickly leaving my body. Mom let go of me. She cupped my face in her hands-- her fingers were so cool against my piping hot skin.

“You’re okay, honey,” she said. Her voice was breaking. She was about to break-- I knew she was. “You’re alright.”

“Am I?” I Asked. My voice was raspy. She looked uncertain. She was about to cry-- I could see the tears forming in her eyes. She stayed silent for a while before turning around to the door. I heard footsteps-- a doctor walked in.

“Hello,” he said. “I see you’re awake.”

I looked at the machines around me. My heart monitor was going steady. Quickly, but steadily. My temperature was above 103. I could feel sweat dripping down my back.

“What’s… wrong with me?” I asked. My voice was getting more hoarse every time I spoke. The doctor looked at his notepad.

“You… have SCID,” he said. 

“What’s SCID?” my mother asked.

“Severe combined immunodeficiency,” he answered. “It must have been pretty late in onset… I mean, your son is already six years old. Usually it shows when they’re still an infant. But… we ran blood tests and we found little to no lymphocytes…”

His voice buzzed out. My ears were ringing. I lied back down. I felt like my body was getting hotter, and the world around me grew colder. I could barely hear it, but the heart monitor was speeding up. The world grew dark again.

I woke up at home, still plugged in to all sorts of things. And I was plugged into those things for days. Weeks. Months. I had a high fever that whole time.

I was sick because my SCID happened because of undiagnosed leukemia as a baby. The white blood cells died slowly and not quickly, thankfully. But they died nonetheless. My health continually got worse as I grew older. Slowly, but it happened nonetheless. I remember getting these chest pains as a toddler-- they would come and go. I would get the flu every winter. I would bruise up after just bumping against the wall. I would pass out every few hours. That’s when the leukemia was discovered. Most of my white blood cells didn’t come back. My body was so used to just staying that way, that it never thought about replacing all of the cells that were back.

SCID was rare, and it just happened to me by chance.

At the same time, it was also the best thing that has happened to me. A serendipitous thing.

I went to the hospital frequently. Most of the visits were just for checkups. Rarely did they find anything. I was still medically classified as having leukemia. At one point, they were going to have to admit me full time. 

I didn’t expect that time to come so quickly.

After only two years of being diagnosed with SCID, I was admitted full time into the hospital full-time. Children’s ward, of course.

My family visited as often as they could. My mother, mostly. It was pretty lonely there, though. I didn’t really know how to socialize, and I wasn’t very interesting or interested in others. 

I was offered a chance to go to the cafeteria on numerous occasions. Only once did I say yes.

That’s where I met Brenton.

Brenton was… very rude. I’ll just put it at that. But… he was also very nice. And sweet. I don’t know. He’s weird.

Anyway, I’ll tell you about it.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been two years since I’ve practically lived in this hospital. It’s called Lakeland Hospital. It’s literally right by a lake. If the weather was nice, the children and staff would go to the lake just to have a sort of beach day without it being a beach. A… a lake day. At least those who weren’t running a fever or were allergic to grass or pollen.

Today was not that day. Instead, I was sitting there, looking at my tinted green reflection in a cup of green tea in the medicine-smelling cafeteria. I saw my ink black eyes, my milky white skin, my soft blonde hair. I needed to cut it-- it was almost to my shoulders. Then I heard someone plopping down in the seat next to me. I turned to my left.

A total stranger-- but also someone I had seen much too often-- sat next to me. I looked down at his leg. It was always in a cast. I looked back up at him. He was rubbing his arm. It was bruised, shoulder to wrist. I looked back at my tea and brought it to my lips to take a sip.

“Oi,” the boy said. I took my sip and put the mug down.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Who are you?”

“A little rude question to ask, if you ask me,” I said, taking another sip of my tea. 

“Answer the question,” the boy said.

I sighed, putting my mug down. “Angel Travis.” I turned to him. “Who are YOU? And why are you in this hospital?” I asked.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Brenton Harper.” he pointed at his leg. “Broke my leg, don’t have enough vitamin C to help make collagen to heal the bone, so it’s taking a long time.”

“Just eat oranges.”

“I have lipid transfer syndrome. Can’t eat most things.”

“Injections. Pills. Something,” I said.

“Tried all that. I guess I’ll just have scurvy for life.” Brenton sighed. “Anyway, what’s your story?”

“SCID,” I answered. “Well, leukemia originally. I’m technically cancer free, but that was because the cancer already killed most of my white blood cells, and my body can’t and won’t make new ones, so… I’m stuck with no immune defenses.”

Brenton nodded, and then stood up. “Walk with me,” he said.

I blinked. I stood up, my entire body shaking. Brenton took my hand-- it was warm compared to mine. He hobbled off, dragging me behind him. I looked down at his leg.

“Should you be walking on that leg?” I asked.

“No, I shouldn’t, but I also don’t care.” Brenton let go of my hand. “Ever been to the waiting rooms? There’s vending machines in there.”

“You have money?” I asked.

I noticed that Brenton had a satchel on his shoulder. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. He took out a few dollar bills.

“You want a snack or a drink?” Brenton asked, turning around. He winked. I felt my face flush, and it wasn’t a fever.

Brenton was… a pretty attractive guy. He was hardly any taller than I was (well, we were only ten years old). His skin was a soft tan, with a freckle under his right eye. His hair was a honey brown color, a complete mess on his head. His eyes were spruce tree green. He reminded me of a warm day at that lake by the hospital. While the sun burned in the sky, it was still a lovely day. That was what it felt like to look in his eyes. To look at his face. To just stand with him. I couldn’t help but to reach for his hand. Brenton looked at our hands, then at me. He smiled.

“Didn’t want to get lost?” he teased.

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “You wish. You’ve been here how long?”

“My entire life,” Brenton answered.

I stopped walking. Brenton stopped as well, turning around to me. He twirled a finger in his hair.

“Yeah, my entire life. Is it hard to believe?”

“I-- no, it’s just-- Ten years?”

Brenton opened the door to the waiting room. He was right-- there were vending machines in them-- with lots of snacks I've either seen and enjoyed or never seen at all. I looked at Brenton. He looked right back.

“... You have pretty eyes,” he said. I tilted my head to the side.

“My eyes? They’re nothing special, really,” I shook my head, brushing my bangs to the side. 

“They remind me of obsidian,” he said. He tugged me inside the waiting room-- it was completely empty. Brenton linked his arm with mine and we walked to the vending machines.

“You still didn’t tell me what you wanted, crystal eyes,” he said. I blushed, looking down at the ground. The only thing I could think of was that he called me “crystal eyes”. I chuckled and snatched the three dollars from his hand.

“How about…” I said, patting the snack machine. “We split a bag of mini kit kats.”

Brenton laughed. “You’re lucky I can actually eat gluten,” he said. “Get ‘em.”


	3. Chapter 3

For two more years, Brenton and I lived in that hospital. Every now and then, we’d get our one day out of the hospital, most of them being on the same days, so we got to spend a lot of time with each other.

I met Brenton’s parents, he met my mom. My mom likes him-- thinks that he’ll be a decent enough influence on me, because he’s nice and sweet and stuff like that.

As I got older, my SCID was getting better. I got blood transfusions to convince my body to produce more white blood cells. They’ve been working, but my red blood cell count has been diminishing. Now it’s just becoming anemia and no longer my white blood cells are funky. 

Brenton got better, too. His vitamin C levels were getting higher. His LTS was just temporary-- he can now eat whatever he wants. I’m proud of him.

His broken leg took over a year to heal. Even now, it’s still not completely healed. There are still a few pieces of bone that are mending. But it’s still mostly healed-- it doesn’t hurt him much to walk anymore. He has a leg brace, but that’s about it. I’m proud of him.

And now, he gets to leave.

While I’m still here, being monitored.

When he was packing up his stuff and changing clothes to leave, I was sitting right there in the room with him, hugging my knees to my chest. I was going to miss him-- he was going to live a normal life. He was going to start 9th grade. I was going to start it too, just… online.

When Brenton was dressed and ready to go, I broke. I cried, right there. I expected Brenton to ignore it-- he always ignored tears, no matter who it was. But… for some reason, he didn’t ignore my tears. He walked to me and hugged me, my cheek smushed against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat on my face-- his heart was pounding, and fast. I looked up at him. He was about to cry, too. He was just trying so hard to hold it in. I hugged him back, squeezing his waist. Then it was his turn to cry.

“I’m gonna miss you, blondie,” he said, his voice breaking. I looked up at him. 

“Be careful out there,” I said. I got out of my chair to hug him properly. The thing I loved about Brenton was that literally everything about him was warm-- even his hugs were warm. I felt Brenton ruffle my hair. I buried my face in his shoulder.

Then I felt him kiss the top of my head. I lifted my head from his shoulder, my face flushing a bright red. He smiled.

“Sorry, I should have warned you,” he said. He ruffled my head again and then walked past. I watched him go, unsure of what to say or do. I was… frozen. 

Then before I knew it, I was walking after him. Before he made it far out the door, I grabbed his arm and tugged him back into the room-- the same way he pulled me into the waiting room all those years ago when we met. My tears wouldn’t stop, but this time it wasn’t because I was sad.

I was happy. I was overflowing with joy, because my feelings for him were mutual.

I loved him. And I was too afraid to say it, but he just said it back. 

My entire body shook. I reached up to wipe my eyes.

“You-- You kissed me,” I said, looking up at him. “W-Why?”

“Why do people kiss people?” Brenton asked, crossing his arms.

“... Do you like me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“Why?”  
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because you’re cute? Maybe because you’re the only person who actually got to know me here at this hospital my entire time here?”

I could feel my heart fluttering. I raked a finger through my hair.

“All this time I thought it was one-sided,” I said. I smiled. “I’m glad it wasn’t.”

“There’s a word that I think describes our encounter,” Brenton said. He linked his arm with mine. “Walk with me. Do you know what the word is?” 

We walked out of the room and down the hall to the elevators. For once, I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown-- I didn’t have a real reason to be in bed. I just wore one of Brenton’s hoodies and some sweatpants. 

“A word that describes our encounter?” I asked. I couldn’t think of anything in mind. Brenton laughed.

“Think about it,” Brenton said. He let go of my arm and walked to the elevator. He pressed the button and the doors opened. He stepped inside, turning around to me. He took a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me, then blew a kiss, and the door closed.

I looked at the slip of paper. It was his email, his phone number, and the school he was planning to go to. I smiled.

“Well, lucky me,” I said. “I’m elearning at that school this year.”


	4. Chapter 4

A few more months went by. Everyday was pretty much uneventful since Brenton left. But it was fine. He visited often, and I had his e-mail and phone number. Right before school started, Brenton promised he'd visit. I was excited about it. 

The night before Brenton would visit, I couldn't sleep. Sure, I was excited, and had been for days, but I would still sleep to be energized for when Brenton came. But I hadn't slept that entire week. I was worried about it. I didn't want to tell Brenton because I knew he would be very worried and he would find out that I haven't been sleeping because I look like a hot mess. So I was just bracing myself for when he would be worried and chatter on about how I need to sleep when really I cannot sleep.

My first instinct was to tell a nurse about it, but I thought it would get better. It hasn't. I don't want to tell a nurse just yet-- maybe after tomorrow. I don't want to ruin my day with Brenton. 

I laid back down on the bed. I could feel my heart beating against my ribs. I looked up at my heart monitor. My heart rate was a bit fast, my blood pressure was low, but that was normal at this point. I looked up at the ceiling. The lights were hurting my eyes, so I shut them. I really should get up and turn off the lights, but I was suddenly feeling very weak. I sat up again. Better do it now before I feel like being unable to move later. I got out of bed and staggered to the light switch. One of my usual nurses was standing outside the door. She froze when she saw me reaching up to turn off the lights. Apparently I didn't look right, because she started rushing over to me.

"Angel are you feeling alright?" she asked, taking my hands. 

"Weak," was all I managed to say, before collapsing on the ground. I was still somewhat conscious. I couldn't breathe, and I was getting dizzy. It was cold. My hands were shaking. I was about to pass out, which was, to me, better than nothing. I really needed the sleep. Maybe I'd wake up in time for Brenton to show up tomorrow.

Plot twist-- I did. A little late, but I woke up when Brenton showed up. He was waiting in the room for a while. I could tell. He was pacing. He usually did that after an hour of waiting. I squinted a bit-- my eyes adjusting to the lights. Brenton glanced at me.

"Oh my God-- Angel," he power walked to my bedside. He took my hands in his. They were still as warm as ever. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. I had an oxygen mask on my face. I nodded a bit, since that was all I could do.

"Than goodness," Brenton sighed, relieved. "You can take off the mask if you want. The nurse told me to tell you that. Need help sitting up?"

I nodded again. Brenton squeezed my hands and pulled me up so I sat up straight. He supported my back with one arm. I reached up and took off my mask.

"Did I scare you?" I asked, glancing at him.

"I was terrified, yes," Brenton replied. "The nurse said it was just another hypoxemia episode. Are you taking enough deep breaths or anything?"

"I don't... I don't think so, no," I shook my head. I put the mask back on my face. I was really struggling to breathe. My head was pounding. I held it in my hands, softly groaning.

"Headache?" Brenton asked. 

I nodded. I leaned on Brenton a bit, trembling. I was still freezing. I didn't know what was going on. Even with the mask on, I could hardly breathe. As if by instinct, Brenton and I looked up at my monitor. Everything except my body temperature was low. I looked at my fingertips. My nails were turning blue. I looked at Brenton. He turned back to me.

"I'll go get a nurse," he said as he quickly got up. Right as he left the door, I started to panic, which set off the monitor. It was starting to beep quickly. When most people panic, their heart rate speeds up. At this point, mine does the opposite. When I panic, my body gets lazy, thinks there's no point in trying to keep going until things get better. My heartrate dropped significantly. I lulled forward and passed out on the bed. I could still hear the monitor beeping fast as I drifted out of consciousness.

I woke up, back in the burning hot oven that brought me to this hospital in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

I was unconscious for most of the day. I was too weak to even move anything below the neck. I turned my head to my left. No one was there. I turned to the right. Brenton was there, hugging his knees to his chest, his face buried in them. I tried to make a noise-- anything to get his attention; anything to let him know that I was okay. I grunted. Brenton looked up from his knees and turned to me. He was crying. It reminded me of when my mom first brought me here. It nearly made me choke to see him cry. I watched as he stood up and knelt at my bedside. 

"What... what happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse. Brenton took in a deep, shaky breath.

"Pulmonary edema," he said, fidgeting. Wow. It must be serious if he was _fidgeting_. He would fidget with anything if he were really worried. And right now, he was fidgeting a lot.

I knew what a pulmonary edema was. One of the other kids at this hospital had it. He didn't make it. We were both traumatized by it. It was pretty humid here, and it was inevitable for that kid to get a wet lung. He had cystic fibrosis. And his bedroom window as always open. His room faced the lake. That didn't help him at all.

My room also faces the lake. It's only cracked open in the afternoons from 2 PM to 3:30 PM, then it's closed. I don't know how I got a wet lung, but I apparently did get one. I looked down at my sides. A tube was under my left arm. There was a container full of fluid by the side of my bed. It was nearly full. The container had to be at least a liter. I looked back at Brenton.

"Yeah, I know. It's a lot," Brenton sighed. 

"I'm scared," I said.

"I know," Brenton took my hands in his. So warm... I scooted closer to Brenton and tried to sit up to hug him. Brenton beat me to it. The second I sat up, he pulled me in for a hug, gently ruffling my hair.

"Will you spend the night?" I asked.

"I can ask."

I buried my face in Brenton's shoulder. I started to cry. Brenton rubbed my back. I could feel him trembling. He was going to cry, too. I just knew it. He can't hold in his tears forever.

"Just let it out already, dummy," I murmured, lightly punching his chest.

"Give me a minute, will ya?" Brenton laughed a bit. It was a sad laugh. I could tell. I looked up at him and reached for his hands.

"Hey," I said. "I'm gonna be okay. I promise."

"Yeah, but--" Brenton stammered. "What if--"

"Shh," I whispered. "I'll fight for both of us."

* * *

At the end of the day, Brenton couldn't spend the night. Besides, tomorrow was the first day of high school for both of us. We had to rest up. Before Brenton left, he gave me a hug. The hug felt like it lasted forever. It felt awful when he left. 

I went to bed, hoping that everything would be fine.

Why is it that whenever I hope everything will be fine, my dreams are crushed, burned, and buried in the dirt just to be dug up again, spat on, and reburied?


End file.
